Layla's Lungs
by Bookjunk
Summary: After Will and Layla have broken up she starts to spend more time with Warren and she finds that around Warren her lungs don't work properly: she is always a bit out of breath.
1. Dog days are over

**Chapter One: Dog days are over**

Will and I broke up and somehow I ended up at the Paper Lantern. I was going somewhere, away, but I didn't know where to go. How utterly pathetic. Doesn't really help with this theory I'm devising which says I'm not running away, but running towards something. Wait, I'm running towards delicious Chinese food. Yes, that's something. Except, of course, we used to come here sometimes as a couple, despite the fact that Will doesn't like Chinese food, so it's some craptastic not-running-away that I'm doing here.

A bit winded, which is weird because I wasn't literally running, I sat down in one of the booths. Note to self: work on condition, because that is truly ridiculous. Secretly, I was hoping Warren was working tonight. He is just so delightfully snarky and I know that will cheer me up. Plus, he thought Will and I were nauseating. I'm pretty sure Warren thinks love in general is vomit-inducing. He dated the ice girl - whose name I keep forgetting, which understandably annoys him – for a while, but then she got too clingy and he 'got rid of her.' His words, not mine.

'Where's Will?' Warren suddenly asked and I gasped for breath. The mention of his name caused my eyes to fill with tears and that was just... No. I was not going to cry in public. So, I blinked them away and faced Warren.

'Where did you just come from?' I asked and Warren grinned and slipped into the booth too.

'I'm stealthy,' he responded and he lit the candle with his finger again. His hair was up and it was different. I don't know why I was commenting on that, even if it was just in the safe confines of my head. It was a stupid observation anyway. Of course it's different. His hair is usually loose. So what?

'We broke up, so it's just me.'

This is why I love Warren. My mom would have sighed, or possibly even shrieked, and immediately smothered me in the dreaded embrace of pity. My father would have avoided eye contact and awkwardly patted my back, probably saying 'there, there.' Magenta would have bitched out Will, which is nice too and I was looking forward to her doing precisely that the next day. Only Warren could have the perfect response. He rolled his eyes, presumably because he was so tired of hearing about my relationship drama, even though this was the first time I told him anything. Ok, apart from that whole pretending he was my boyfriend to make Will jealous thing last year. Yet, underneath his exasperation there was something more. Like he actually cared, but he was very careful to keep that under wraps.

'So, no meat tonight?'

'Yep, that's just what I was saying,' I answered and watched him as he went to report my usual order to the cook. The place was empty except for me. This will always remain a mystery for me. The food is wonderful, the service is quick, though a bit sarcastic, and still no one ever seems to eat here. And I have told everyone I know about this place.

Again Warren appeared out of nowhere and again I gasped. There was something really strange going on, because I felt constantly out of breath. And I swear that while no one would say I'm athletic, I'm not exactly a couch potato either. Weird.

Warren sat down opposite me and wrinkled his nose. I don't think he was aware he did it, but it was... cute? I could feel my hand burning even thinking that anything about Warren was cute. Sometimes he could be fierce and terrifying, but luckily not tonight. Because the restaurant was basically deserted and there is only so much mopping up and cleaning of tables you can do, we chatted for a while. Warren looked a bit taken aback when I mentioned I absolutely adored Bob Dylan. People always do that. I don't get that. Are people under the age of twenty not allowed to like Dylan? Do I look too fluffy to appreciate good music? Do I look fluffy?

Fluffy like insubstantial, like vapid. Will did make me feel like that. And I'm back to Will again. To be fair, I'm sure I made him feel pretty undesirable too. For some reason, when we started dating, we also started fighting and yelling and accusing. I honestly don't know why, but we were the poster couple for why friends shouldn't date. So, now it feels like I've lost my best friend, because I've actually lost my best friend.

Someone hollered from the kitchen of the restaurant and Warren flashed me a wry smile and rose. A few seconds later he returned with my order. I had some Jo Pan Lou Sun, wonderful asparagus salad, which Warren looked at with disdain, because he doesn't like asparagus. I told him they were an underappreciated vegetable, but he only shook his head and said I shouldn't eat and speak at the same time.

'Very unladylike,' he added, which made me almost choke. I recovered enough to ask if he did approve of me ordering a salad.

'That's what ladies do, right? They order salads, because they don't want to be seen eating real food,' I said and Warren looked at me like I came from another planet.

'They certainly don't pack it away like you do,' he finally answered. When I started on the Chun Yao Bang, great fried scallion pancake, I reflected this was probably a compliment coming from Warren. He does not seem like the kind of guy who would like a lady. I kept shoving - what did I care; there was no one in the restaurant but Warren and me – and Warren smiled at me. His smile was really amazing, like one of those toothpaste commercial smiles, all sparkling teeth and dazzling beauty. Except Warren's smile was genuine and somehow a bit wicked. Do not analyse your friend's smile, Layla, it's rude.

Every time I took a bite Warren made a comment and despite generally feeling a bit depressed and having to hold back from crying I found that with Warren I was instead having difficulties not laughing.

'Well, finally you're finished. I thought that pancake would take forever. I mean, it's been five minutes since you started and you've just now eaten it. You_ disgust_ me,' Warren said when I had swallowed the last bite and because of his combination of sarcasm and simultaneous smirking I snorted and then I kind of choked and then I coughed a lot. It was most unbecoming, but Warren just gently patted my back and tried to keep from smiling, so I'm sure he didn't mind too much. Wiping the tears from my eyes, good tears, tears from laughter, I smiled at him.

'Thanks for sitting with me and cheering me up,' I said and suddenly he seemed almost angry. It was as if expressing my gratitude had insulted him. He got up in one smooth movement and looked down on me. Yes, he had reverted to being scary again.

'Don't be flattered. I was bored,' he mumbled. What he had done was nice. Nice in a way that I knew he could be, but that he didn't display very often. I wanted to thank him a second time, instead however, I just paid for the meal and left a hefty tip. Probably he would find that insulting too, but hey, he would just have to deal with it. I cocked my head and smiled at him. He stared back, his face devoid of any expression.

'So, what you're saying is that at the very least talking to me is less boring than mopping the floor or cleaning tables? Compliment accepted!' I beamed and before he could protest I quickly left.


	2. Rabbit heart

**Chapter Two: Rabbit heart (raise it up)**

Outside of the Paper Lantern the rain was coming down in sheets. I couldn't imagine being so agile as Lash to slip between the sheets or as fast as Speed to make it home without getting soaked. So, I opted to wait outside and was kind of hoping for the rain to abide. It made me think of that awful Linda Ronstadt song that Will liked. He really had the worst taste in music. Not that this particular song was horrible, but the lyrics were so sappy. I sat down on a bit of the pavement that was still relatively dry and sheltered and tried to remember the lyrics.

I knew the beginning.

_Love will abide, take things in stride, sounds like good advice, but there's no one at my side._

That's just so dreadfully depressing, isn't it? Not only is the singer unable to stop loving whoever she's in love with, she is also all alone.

_Time washes clean, love's wounds unseen, that's what someone told me, but I don't know what it means._

This just make me feel even sorrier for the singer, because not only does she love someone who doesn't love her back, she's also dumb. I mean, come on, _time washes clean love's wounds unseen_? That stuff is pretty obvious. Clearly, the EQ of this chick is higher than her IQ. And here I had to think for a moment to come up with the rest of the lyrics, despite the fact that this is the refrain and sort of climax of the song.

'_Cause I've done everything I know to try and make you mine and I think I'm gonna love you for a long long time._

Maybe I dislike the lyrics so violently, because they remind me of me. Up until a few months ago I felt like that about Will. All desperate and forlorn longing. All _I've done everything I know to try and make you mine,_ except I didn't try, of course. In fact, I did absolutely nothing. I didn't even tell him how I felt, until everybody had urged me like a million times to be open about my feelings. It was my rabbit heart that kept me from saying or doing anything; I was afraid. What I did instead was imagine. Imagine how we would be together and how he would kiss me and how he would hold my hand. It was pretty chaste and pretty great. And then we did date and kiss and hold hands and everything was just a lot less fantastic than the fantasy had been.

_Living in the memory of a love that never was._

So, basically I screwed up our actual relationship by having an awesome fantasy about it before we ever got together. This was even before the insane arguments we used to have about him being five minutes late and me wearing rain boots when it wasn't raining. But maybe this is just the way the world works? Maybe fantasy is always better than real life. If I fantasised about being with Warren and if we then became a couple it would probably also be a little bit less wonderful. He would make fun of me in this loving way, chide me for my atrocious table manners, his hair would tickle my face while we kissed. I laughed out loud. That was a curious thought: Warren and me.

The rain was still coming down hard. I discovered I was humming the song. Slightly ashamed, I stopped and decided to enter the restaurant again. It didn't look like it was going to stop raining any time soon and I might catch a cold. When I turned Warren was standing by the door, looking at me, with an inscrutable expression on his face. Without saying anything he handed me a black umbrella.

'Let me guess, if I catch pneumonia in front of the restaurant that will be bad publicity and you can't have that?' I asked, gratefully taking the umbrella. It was a rather weak effort at talking smack. I suspect I'm just not very good at either that or sarcasm, while Warren is practically an expert at the good natured insult. When I practise with Magenta, who is also great at it, I usually get no further than 'your mother is fat' and then I feel guilty about saying something mean about someone's mother. Plus, the insult is not original or clever in any way whatsoever. But instead of letting loose a verbal throw down Warren stared at me for a few breathes, which for me were coming faster than normal again.

'Something like that,' he said and he seemed distracted. He glanced at his truck and then back at me and there was the briefest of moments where I thought he might offer to drive me home. It flew by like one of Douglas Adams's deadlines. I don't know why I thought that. We were really not friends, more like casual acquaintances. It would not even surprise me if he saw me somewhere outside of school and pretended not to know me. We simply weren't close that way. I liked him, but he's not easy to get to know. I have no idea what he thinks of me, though I'm sure that at times he considers me a nuisance. That doesn't bother me: at times I _am_ a nuisance.

I found myself looking at his lips and immediately averted my gaze. I detest those arcane flirting devices: the hair-flip, the hair-tuck and the staring at the lips. Sometimes when I'm just talking to a guy, like Ethan or Zach, and my hair is hanging in my face and it's annoying as hell, I'll _not_ do the hair-tuck, because I'm afraid that they will think I'm flirting with them. It's almost a neurosis. Also, what's with the visual appreciation of Warren today? First his hair, then his smile and now his lips. Yes, Warren is handsome, but he's also... Warren.

'Well, I'll just go now,' I finally said and opened the umbrella. It was a shame I wasn't wearing my rain boots, I thought as I stepped into the rain, because there were a lot of puddles about. I love my rain boots, they're the brightest yellow I could find and just looking at them makes me happy. That's why I occasionally wear them even when the weather is nice. I know it's infantile and people look at me strangely when I do, but I couldn't care less. And when it is raining, instead of sidestepping puddles I always splash through them. That's what puddles are for. Avoiding them would be like not having fallen leaves crackle beneath your feet in autumn. It would be like not crushing snow in winter. The sounds alone these activities produce are worth the sideway glances of passersby.

'As of tomorrow we'll have a new menu,' Warren called out and I looked over my shoulder, 'It's got Jo Pan Lou Sun according to a new recipe. With either green or white asparagus. What's in it now?'

'White asparagus,' I answered.

'Then it's got the other gross variant tomorrow,' Warren yelled.

'Wow, you're really selling me on the new dish,' I said. That was solid sarcasm right there. Regardless of his poor choice of words and his obvious failure to understand the wonders of the asparagus, I called back that I would come by if not tomorrow then at least some time that week. Warren very cautiously cracked a smile, before frowning and going inside. I watched him retreat and caught myself thinking that he was quite lovely to look at from the back too. Layla, stop it! I scooted some serious puddles on the way home and managed to think no more of Warren.

(***)

'I love deadlines; I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.' – Douglas Adams (English humorist and science fiction novelist (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy)

Song lyrics from Long Long Time by Linda Ronstadt.


	3. I'm not calling you a liar

**Chapter Three: I'm not calling you a liar**

A week had passed since that rainy day when the first relationship I had been in had ended and I had visited the Paper Lantern for comfort food and a healthy dose of sarcasm. Nothing much had happened. I had been busy with a big school project; that was about it. When it comes right down to it life is pretty boring. Today was filled with awkwardness. Arriving at school I waved at Warren, who kind of ignored me. So much for being quasi-friendly to each other, I guess. Will thought I was waving at him and he came over. I congratulated him immediately. He was excited about the car his parents had given him for his birthday.

It was a real wreck. That's not being mean, that's the truth. I'm probably even sugar coating it. Ok, you know how sometimes spoiled children of rich parents get brand new cars for their birthday? This was not like that. It wasn't even a second hand car from a nice old lady who only ever drove it to the supermarket. This car looked like it had gone through eight lives already and was barely hanging onto its ninth. It had been raced, it had been crashed, it had been vandalised, it had things done to it I can't even imagine and I've got a wild imagination. It had been through hell and back. It looked rough, is what I'm saying.

Will was pointing out all sorts of things, because apparently it was a classic. I wanted to say it was a classic piece of crap, but he was so happy with it that I couldn't bring myself to say it. Instead I nodded and pretended to know what he was talking about when he threw around words like carburettor and suction and who knows what else? Knowing absolutely nothing about cars, except which colour I preferred them in – green – it didn't take long for me to start to feel fluffy.

'Warren promised me he would help me with it. Obviously, it still needs a lot of work,' Will said. I wasn't going to agree with that. That would be redundant.

'I didn't know Warren fixed or whatever-ed cars. How is he doing, by the way? I haven't seen him for a week. I mean, I've seen him, of course, at school, but I haven't talked to him. So, I haven't really seen him. I haven't _seen_ seen him.'

I realised I was jabbering like an idiot, so I stopped. Will was regarding me rather strangely. Flicking a spot of dust of the car, he opened his mouth, but shut it again. Suddenly, everything between us was back. Not the good stuff. Just a sort of unbearable tension and awkwardness, which miraculously we had largely managed to avoid up until this moment. What can I say? It's a gift. I can make the most comfortable conversation grind down to a painful halt. Thanks, I'll be here all week, folks!

'Ehm, Warren looks like he knows about cars,' I eventually said when the silence got to me. It was an inane thing to say, which I naturally only realised after I'd said it. What does that even mean? With my ex-boyfriend standing _right there_, I theorised about whether I had been making a statement about Warren's strong arms. It was a thinking theory, not an out loud theory; an indication I had a semblance of a brain left, but Will looked at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking. He might. Not that he's a mind reader, though the guy does have way too many superpowers, but he knows me so well. Let's all silently hope that this is one of those times when I'm thinking about his scrumptious best friend and he thinks I'm thinking about a baloney sandwich.

'Yeah? Ok. So, about my party tonight...' Will started and the entire walk to class he regaled me with ridiculous tales of presents he thought he would get. Lasers, private planes, that little device from Men in Black, which makes people forget what they have seen, so you can implant new memories and suggestions in their head, – he swore he had no nefarious intentions with it; he was just going to use it to get out of homework – a pool full of sharks and perhaps the sharks would also have lasers. The list was endless and endlessly entertaining. It wasn't until we were seated that I realised that awkward moment from earlier had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Maybe we could go back to being friends just fine.

(***)

That night at the party I mostly watched Will have a really good time. After last year he was still a hero and he clearly enjoyed the attention. Warren was there too, but I got the impression he was avoiding me. When we bumped into each other at the drinks table, he didn't look all that pleased to see me. We nodded and then leaned against the wall. If I hadn't been a bit confused about his behaviour and my behaviour I would have laughed at us. It was almost a contest of who could come across the most indifferent. Warren won, hands down.

'Who's that?' I asked him, as an extraordinary beautiful girl walked by. No reason he should know really, except I've got an idea of Warren as a womaniser. It makes no sense whatsoever, since he hasn't dated anyone before or after the ice girl – whose name is Nicole, I now remembered: quiet celebratory yay. Maybe it's because there are a lot of girls who would gladly date him, if only he was willing.

'First year. Sophia,' he immediately answered. His quick response caused a pang of something, which was most definitely not jealousy, to shoot through my body. Will chatted with the girl for a few minutes and when I looked away from them I saw Warren staring at me meaningfully.

'What? I'm totally over him,' I squeaked. The high pitched voice was not really helping my case and Warren scoffed. He sipped his drink. His was a natural casualness, mine was forced. Even a most mundane task like bringing the cup to his mouth was smooth and graceful. When he had finished his drink he put the cup down gently and leaned closer. His eyes were...well, wonderful of course, like everything else about him. A pleasant sort of panic came over me.

'You're not interested in the new Jo Pan Lou Sun?'

It took me quite a while to hear him and then to understand the words and then to remember what he was talking about. There was no reproach in his voice, though I had technically broken my promise. Worse, perhaps, was that I had completely forgotten about the promise.

'No, I mean yes, I am interested. It's just that I've been busy with the school project. I'm sorry,' I explained, but he kindly waved away my apologies. A moment ago I could have sworn that despite his relaxed attitude my failure to come to the restaurant had mattered to him, but now he appeared entirely unconcerned again.

'The project. I understand,' he said and he smiled at me. It softened his features. He wandered away, for what I assumed would be a couple of minutes, but it turned out he had gone home. Will joined me at the drinks table. He tried to hide the fact that he was looking at Sophia over his shoulder, while he poured a drink. The major spillage was not helping to convince me of his act.

'She's gorgeous,' I remarked and watched his reaction. He almost choked on his drink and then attempted to sound casual. Will was quite possible the worst liar ever.

'Really? I hadn't noticed.'

I snorted and he blushed and grinned. All in all it was a nice evening. Will told me he was disappointed he didn't receive even one measly shark with a laser, but other than that it was a success.

(***)

Author's note: I don't think I've mentioned this before, so I'll do it now. The story title comes from Florence & the machine's album Lungs and the chapter titles are the titles of songs from the album.


	4. Howl

**Chapter Four: Howl**

The next day around dinnertime I was thinking about going to the Paper Lantern, despite the fact that my mother had said her famous veggie burgers were on the menu. Taking a much needed break from working on the school project, I was dealing with my food dilemma in the front garden, because the weather was beyond nice. There was a light breeze, which just cooled your skin and then there was the enjoyable warmth of the sun. It was practically perfect. So, I sat on the lawn and debated veggie burgers against Jo Pan Lou Sun. Veggie burgers were healthier, but only a bit. I had never tasted Chinese asparagus salad with green asparagus. For veggie burgers I wouldn't have to go anywhere. If I went to the Paper Lantern I would get to see Warren. Curious when that became a pro.

Deep in thought I stretched out on the lawn. This was one of my favourite things about late summer. Just lying on the grass, having the warmth spread through your body. It heightens your senses, until you feel every blade of grass under your body. Small, harmless insects tickle your feet and arms. When you close your eyes you can still see this dark red sun coming through your eyelids and when you open your eyes again everything seems surreal. This time things were a bit more surreal than usual, because Warren was looming over me. My breathing accelerated instantly. He offered me a hand and helped me up. In his other hand he held a paper container with a tiny red lantern on it.

'Hi,' he said. He let go of my hand immediately and seemed almost shy. The food container was emitting delicious scents. It didn't take me long to realise Warren had brought me the new dish.

'Why...' I started, but before I could say anything more he thrust the container into my hands.

'Bye,' he called as he was already halfway across the road. His green truck was shimmering in the sunlight. Without wasting any time he jumped in and drove away. A bit dazed, I went inside. In the kitchen I encountered my mother. She was whistling, a sure sign that she had been spying on us through the kitchen window. I could see she was trying with all her might to keep silent, so I sat down at the kitchen table and waited. When I opened the container the new Jo Pan Lou Sun looked great.

'Was that Warren?'

I nodded. My mother loved butting into my life too much to keep quiet indefinitely. My account of the breakup with Will had been most disappointing for her. Of course, she was very supportive and was upset to see me upset, but I suspect she would have appreciated more details. It was just hard to say something meaningful about it, when it was still so raw. Didn't Vonnegut say there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre? Well, there is nothing intelligent to be said about something much smaller, like a painful breakup, either.

'He's handsome.'

'Ew, mom,' I reacted. Not that Warren isn't handsome; he is. There is no need for me to provide documented proof that I am attracted to him: my respiratory issues in his presence speak for themselves. Her comment just made me think of her as a cougar. The most disturbing thing of all is that I think Warren would have no trouble dating on older woman. That is neither a visual, nor an idea, nor a thought that I want to have. I explained to her how Warren had brought me the new Jo Pan Lou Sun. My mother reached over and sniffed appreciatively at the opened container. I've told her numerous times to not do that, but it's an unbreakable habit. She's always literally sticking her nose in everything.

'That's nice. He must really like you,' she offered after a moment. It _was_ a nice thing to do and it is true that Warren doesn't display affection very readily or very often. Yet, mostly he was not friendly at all. He wasn't mean either; he just couldn't be bothered one way or another. That's the way I interpreted his attitude anyway. To end the conversation with my mother before I put my food in my mouth, I decided to put something else in my mouth. I got up to take a knife and fork from the cutlery drawer and tucked into the fresh asparagus salad.

(***)

On Wednesday evening I finished the school project and it was an immense relief to be finally done with it. I pursed my lips and stared out of the window for a while. A small breeze came in through the open window and the curtains moved slightly. It was wonderful to be able to simply sit there and not have to do anything or think about anything. Soon, however, I grew bored. My pencil rolled off the desk and as I picked it up I found myself thinking about Warren. For whatever reason he had given me the food; it had been a nice gesture. Common courtesy dictated I should do something nice in return.

Without further ado I put on my shoes and went downstairs to tell my mother I was going to the Paper Lantern to see Warren. She exchanged a look fraught with meaning with my father, which made me roll my eyes. Judging by the way they were behaving, you would think it was a booty call or something. My parents are such perverts.

Arriving at the restaurant I was pleasantly surprised to find it packed. From what I could see Warren was actually having difficulty covering all the tables, so I did what everyone I my situation would have done and strapped on a spare apron. He flashed me a quick smile, before directing me to the kitchen. The cook seemed a bit overwhelmed at the amount of food that needed to be prepared and was confused by me being there, but Warren explained that I wanted to help. The rest of the evening we barely had any time to talk to each other, since the customers demanded our undivided attention.

Around eight o'clock people started leaving and half an hour later the cook left, so it was just Warren and me. I assisted Warren in clearing the tables, cleaning them and mopping the floor. Then we moved to the kitchen, where the few plates and forks and knifes there were still needed to be washed and dried. As far as washing up goes Chinese food is great. Environmentally speaking? Not so great. Many of the food containers were made out of paper, but there was still a lot of plastic in there. Warren was very quick with the drying, which to me is the hardest and the least fun. He was burning holes in the back of my head, while he waited for me to finish washing item after item. Most of the time he had to rewash plates, because they weren't entirely clean, but he didn't seem to mind.

Perhaps it was merely my imagination, but whenever he needed to redo a plate he bumped his shoulder into mine. It was very intimate. After I had added to his misery by breaking a plate, I backed away, so he could wash up alone, because, I regret to say, on his own he was much faster than with my questionable help. It was still warm and I felt clammy. My hair was plastered to my face, so gathered all the escaped strands and I redid my ponytail. When Warren was finished he wiped his hands on his apron and turned to me.

'Fortune cookie?' he asked, so naturally I started to cry. It came on so suddenly that I could do absolutely nothing to stop it, so I stood there sobbing helplessly. Warren looked terrified. His look of distress was so funny I actually laughed through my tears. He took off his apron and approached me. Very cautiously, as if he was about to pet a wild animal, he patted my back. It was a brave attempt to comfort me and, considering the source, must have acquired some effort, but it did nothing to quell my stupid tears. I was presenting a truly horrendous sight with my eyes puffy and red and tears streaming down my scrunched up face, but the sounds were the real attraction. The wailing was awful and the gasping breaths in between the wails were even worse. No wonder Warren had no idea what to do.

'I'm sorry. It was just my first breakup and it was with my first boyfriend and it is very stressful and I haven't cried until now.'

Now, I wasn't that articulate of course. Those two sentences were punctuated by sobs and hiccups and loud oxygen intakes. Slowly, I was starting to calm down. Warren was standing close by and his presence was soothing. It was a good thing that he wasn't the type of person to hug people when they're crying, because I was such a mess that I might have socked him. There was a lesson in there somewhere about not bottling up every emotion. The past two weeks I had been pretending everything was fine when clearly it wasn't. Wallowing exists for a reason, and so do ice cream and Alanis Morissette. It's so you don't behave like a lunatic.

'Well, that was embarrassing. I'm sorry about that,' I said. Warren handed me a towel to dry my face, but avoided eye contact. He appeared more embarrassed by what had happened than I was, while I should feel like a complete idiot after that display.

'I'll just go now.'

'Thanks for helping,' he mumbled, but he still couldn't look at me. So, instead of helping him, I gave the guy a trauma.

(***)

There is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre – Kurt Vonnegut (Slaughterhouse-Five)


	5. Kiss with a fist

**Chapter Five: Kiss with a fist**

Thursday we had to hand in the project. I was pretty pleased with the final result and confident I would receive a good grade, so despite yesterday's outburst I was feeling good. Good enough to wear my rain boots; everyone be damned. When I saw him in the hallway at school Warren even waved at me hesitantly. Perhaps, regardless of how embarrassing it had been, the crying had been cathartic. Cleansing, healing, and all that. _Time washes clean love's wounds unseen. _Now the grief was largely gone and I could focus on maintaining my friendship with Will. That friendship was a thing I never wanted to lose.

After school I swung by the Paper Lantern to apologise again to Warren for frightening him so. Unfortunately, the restaurant was closed, so I started to leave. After a few steps, however, I could hear someone cursing in the back alley. Upon investigating I discovered Warren was trying to fit a few too many garbage bags into the container. He was looking a bit frustrated.

'Do you want me to get on top and crush them?' I said and he swivelled round. Honestly, he looked like I had almost given him a heart attack. The reaction seemed a bit much, but he was in all likelihood still recovering from being traumatised yesterday.

'What? You shouldn't sneak up on people,' he admonished and I responded I didn't sneak; I was just stealthy. At this he smiled, before sighing and punching at the bags still sticking out of the container.

'Come on, give me your hand,' I ordered and he did as he was told. It was very elegant up until I sank knee-deep into the container. Bags were piled on top of each other and they were all greasy and the container wasn't exactly clean either, hence my difficulty in finding something to hold onto as I tried to yank my leg out. Luckily, Warren offered me his hand again and prevented me from keeling over as I freed my leg. Then I just stamped and jumped around, trying to ignore the snaps of chicken carcasses being crushed and the more slithery and oozy sounds of rice being compressed. Judging by the amused look on Warren's face, I looked fairly ridiculous. Waving away Warren's hand I jumped out. Due to all the grease my boots were now almost neon yellow.

'Nice boots,' Warren said, 'but I could have done that. I guess the times they really are a-changin' if women are doing the dirty jobs now.'

'Are you quoting Dylan at me?' I asked. Frankly, I was amazed. When I had told him I liked Bob Dylan he had said he only knew the song _Hurricane_ and he hadn't seemed in a hurry to acquaint himself with the musical genius that is Bob Dylan.

'Don't sound so surprised. I thought if you liked him there might be something to it, so I gave his music a try. And it's good,' Warren explained.

'Ok, now _you_ sound surprised,' I accused and he shrugged. This was a new development and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Warren had listened to Bob Dylan, because I liked it. Warren had listened to Bob Dylan, because _I_ liked it? It was extremely flattering, but also a tad disturbing.

'Well, I best be a-going,' I said and man, was that ever stupid. _I best be a-going_? Seriously? Who am I; Yoda? I knew where it came from. It was a game I played sometimes with my parents where every gerund is preceded by a-. So, the times are a-changing, I'm a-going, I'm a-embarrassing myself again. Yes, that last one doesn't really work. Also, context, Layla! My face was beet red by now and I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm. Confused, I looked at him and he immediately released my arm.

'I wanted to apologise. Yesterday... You were upset and I should have done something. I'm sorry,' Warren said and he was staring at the floor. His expression was strained and he was scratching at his neck. His obvious embarrassment was doing wonders for mine as I started to feel a lot better.

'That's strange because I came to apologise to you for making a spectacle of myself yesterday. You didn't have to do anything, really.'

'So, we're both forgiven? Even if I admit I like Eric Clapton better than Dylan?' Warren asked, with a grin. For a second I pretended to debate the question, but then I nodded happily. Still, Warren looked like I hadn't answered the question at all. He seemed to be waiting for something and I had no idea what it was. We walked into the kitchen through the back entrance. It wasn't even five o'clock yet, so no one was either there or in the restaurant.

Warren offered me a bunch of paper napkins to clean my boots and started stacking dinner trays. In general, I can be maddeningly oblivious to tension, but I was aware of it now. It was thick and uncomfortable and I could hardly blame Warren. We were alone, so he was probably afraid I was going to bawl like a freak a second time. Bending down to reach my boots, I gave them a good scrubbing until they were back to simply bright instead of glaring. As I got up I suddenly stood eye to eye with Warren.

Well, I was looking up and he was looking down, because he's tall... and dark and handsome. But the significant thing was that a very thin person could not have squeezed between us at that moment. I could feel his breath on my face; it smelt kind of spicy, but pleasant. My breathing was crazy accelerated, but he didn't seem to notice. With a puzzled expression on his face he leaned closer and kissed me.

If I had ever imagined Warren kissing me – which I had _not_, thank you very much; not a lot, anyway – the actual kiss could not have been more different. He pressed his lips to mine with what can only be described as tenderness. Gently, he slipped his fingers into my hair and brought my mouth closer to his. His tongue parted my lips and the tip of his tongue licked my lower lip. He pulled away and paused briefly before kissing me softly again. This is when I screwed it up. The only thing I could have done that would have been worse was to start crying. Instead, I began to laugh.

'Warren, I don't think it's funny,' I managed to say, but it was rather condescending and meaningless, because I was still laughing. Why? Beats me. Warren didn't say anything. He just turned around and resumed stacking the trays on top of each other. Mortified, I tried to get him to face me, but he jerked his arm away. In the process he also accidentally hit me in the left eye with a tray. That put an end to my laughing at least.

'Does it hurt?' he asked immediately. It was a rather stupid question, but I was the queen of stupid, so it would be hypocritical of me to point this out.

'You socked me in the eye with a tray, so yeah,' I answered. I wanted to add that I had quite deserved it, but opted against that. Best not to suggest it's ok for people to hit you, even if you have humiliated them, I always say. That's not a message you want to send. Not that he had done it on purpose. I was yanking and he was jerking and it was just one of those not-so-happy accidents. He left me for a minute and returned with a single ice cube in a towel.

'There's nothing else, unless you want to hold an entire frozen chicken against your eye,' he apologised, but I was not going to complain. Especially not, since what then ensued was like a scene out of _Nine ½ weeks_. My parents had not yet permitted me to see the film, but I heard from Magenta that it featured the erotic use of ice cubes. And what was transpiring between Warren and me was certainly erotic. He touched the upper part of my nose with the ice cube and then slowly moved it to the left over my closed eye lid. It hurt, but it also felt good. The ice cube melted much too fast.

Afterwards Warren drove me home and I could feel my eye starting to swell up. It was already closed and tomorrow I was not going to be able to open it, I knew that much. We were silent the whole drive, until he turned into the driveway of my home. He closed his hand loosely around my wrist and looked into my eyes – eye.

'I'm sorry, Layla. It was an accident. I didn't mean to hurt you, you know that right?' he said and he looked so terribly guilty, though we both knew it had indeed been an accident. I nodded and got out of the car. Me neither, I wanted to say. I didn't mean to hurt you either.


	6. Girl with one eye

**Chapter Six: Girl with one eye**

After I had convinced my parents that Warren was neither abusive nor did the incident need to be reported to the police, I went upstairs. My mother knew about my patented and pathetic clumsiness and immediately believed me when I told her what had happened, but my dad was less convinced. I get that. Your daughter comes home sporting a shiner and alarm bells tend to go off. He still likes to think of me as his little girl sometimes and he protects the hell out of me. It's one of those things that parents do that makes you feel loved, yet annoys you at the same time.

Upstairs I inspected my beautiful black eye in the mirror. It was indeed nicely swollen and discoloured. Right now it was mostly blue, but tomorrow it would be green and purple. The damage was not too extensive, since the tray had not actually hit me in the eye, but rather on the eye, if that makes sense. The area around the eye was sore, but the eye itself, apart from being unable to open it, felt fine. There was no covering it up. I do have some foundation for that, but that doesn't even work on a tiny zit, so it certainly wasn't going to work on my huge tennis ball of an eye.

I put on some Dylan and thought about the kiss. More specifically, about why I had laughed. After some careful consideration I came up with a combination of factors that had led to the unfortunately timed laughter.

Factor one: It has been a mere two and a half weeks since Will and I broke up. For so long I had thought he was it. The one. As juvenile and outdated as that ideal is, I really thought Will was it for me. Now I had cried and we were trying to salvage our friendship, but that kind of love did not simply vanish in such a short time span.

Factor two: I don't have feelings for Warren. Contrary to what my lungs are saying, I don't like Warren that way. I do like him and I am attracted to him, but I honestly don't think I have feelings for him. Maybe I should, but I don't because he's Warren. It's indescribable. _He_ is indescribable. He's an enigma wrapped in a riddle shrouded in mystery.

Factor three: Warren doesn't have feelings for me. He doesn't strike me as the loving or dating type. It's not that he's entirely indifferent to girls, he notices them, but I've gotten the impression that he thinks dating is not worth the trouble. Why would I be the exception?

Factor four: The kiss was slow and deliberate. Warren took his time. Like he wanted to do it right. Like he wanted it to mean something.

So, there we had two people kissing, who had no feelings for each other, one of whom was coming fresh out of her first serious relationship and instead of the kiss just being hot, the kiss was romantic. The whole situation was preposterous. I feel like I deserve a medal or something for not laughing earlier, but I guess I'll just have to do with my eye of honour. On the other hand, Warren's pride must be hurt and once again I would have to do some major grovelling.

(***)

At school the next day there was something else I needed to do. The eye was not inconspicuous, so people were going to ask me what happened. Will was going to ask me and what was I going to say? Should the kiss be omitted or did I need to tell him? I didn't want to start off our friendship 2.0 by lying to him. Yet...

Will was struggling out of his car in the parking lot in front of school when I saw him. Often he offers me a ride to school, but the combination of Will as a driver and the state his car is in has made me decline his offer politely, multiple times. The door was stuck, so Will was putting his shoulder against it from the inside. To help him, I hurried over and started pulling on the door handle, but I couldn't put too much strength behind it. I was afraid that if I pulled too hard I would be holding the door handle in my hand and then the car would be wrecked even further. Finally, after some more pushing and shoving the door swung open creakily.

'I thought Warren was going to help you with it,' I said as he retrieved his bag from the backseat. Will carefully closed the door and locked the car. Unnecessarily, in my opinion, because who was going to want to steal that piece of junk?

'He's been working a lot of extra shifts at the Paper Lantern lately, so he hasn't had time. After school I'm driving...' Will answered and stopped when he noticed my eye, 'Layla, what happened to your eye?'

'Oh that. That's Warren's fault,' I said casually. Perhaps a bit too cavalier, because Will suddenly got an angry look on his face and was about to stomp off. Quickly, I grabbed his arm to stop him. I should really rethink my policy for yanking at people's arms, because so far it hasn't done me a lot of good. Nonetheless, Will managed not to fling his bag into my other eye when he turned around, so this time the strategy paid off without violence being inflicted on me.

'It was an accident, Will. Did you think he hit me? Jeez, like Warren would do that.'

As quick as his anger had surfaced it was also gone. He smiled apologetically for jumping to an erroneous conclusion and asked how it had happened. A bit hesitantly I told him about the kiss and what transpired from there. I watched his face closely as I told the tale, but Will kept it in check. The thing that surprised him most was that Warren had kissed me. Like me he was under the impression that Warren cared very little for the dating scene and romance and related matters.

'That was harsh, Layla,' he scolded me, 'You don't know what that does to a guy if a girl laughs halfway through the kiss.'

'Yeah, I know. I'm going over to the Paper Lantern later to apologise to him. Also, karma pretty much smacked me in the eye immediately afterwards,' I said as we walked up the steps of the school.

'Warren's not working today. He promised to start on my car, so I'm driving it over after school, so he can have a look at it. You can come with, if you want too,' Will offered and I accepted with trepidation. Momentarily, we were both stumped for conversation, until I thought of a safe topic.

'Do you think you did well on the project?'

'It's a bit strange, right?' Will asked and he wasn't talking about the project. Adjusting the strap of my schoolbag because it was cutting into my shoulder I agreed. It was strange.

'My best friend kissed my ex-girlfriend,' Will summarised, perplexed.

'It's more than strange. It's practically otherworldly,' I exaggerated, yet he nodded as if he couldn't agree more. He held the door to the classroom open for me, but didn't step aside to let me pass. We stared at each other.

'Because we're trying to be friends again or because it's Warren?' he asked. Magenta was nudging me from behind. Ethan whispered to her this was a good practise in patience for her. In response, she shoved him so hard he almost toppled over, but he managed to stay upright and laughed. It was easier to focus on their shenanigans than to answer Will's question.

'Both. This is not a problem for you, is it? I mean, we're friends, still?' I asked and Will gazed into the classroom and then at the crowd gathering by the door. Since the school had given up that arcane superhero/sidekick division the rooms were sometimes a bit too small for the groups, but a major rebuilding was coming up. He opened the door wider to let me pass, because the mutterings behind us were growing more hostile by the second. Ethan was trying to hold people at bay, but Magenta was quite enjoying the sarcasm. She always enjoyed mocking Will.

'No, I don't have a problem with it and yes, we're just friends,' Will answered, but I couldn't see his face through the other students pushing inside and he didn't sit down close to me as he usually did. Instead, Magenta sat down next to me and demanded to hear the story of my eye. The story of my eye, the story of Warren kissing me, whatever you wanted to call it, I couldn't get it out of my head. Neither could Will, because every time I glanced at him over the course of the day, he appeared deep in thought. And the thought was not pleasant, judging by the look on his face.


	7. Drumming song

**Chapter Seven: Drumming song **

On the drive over to Warren, Will was conspicuously silent. My silence was perhaps less unnerving because I merely didn't know what to say, but Will demonstratively didn't _want_ to say anything. As he pulled into the driveway next to Warren's truck, a brunette came over to us.

'Warren's in the garage,' she said and pointed towards a rather large building in the back of the garden. Hurriedly, she introduced herself as Warren's mother and shook both our hands. She apologised profusely, but she had to go; she was already late for an appointment. Will watched her leave with interest. This was not strange since she was a gorgeous woman, but it was a bit unsettling, because she was Warren's mother. With his ogling of Warren's mother now and Sophia at his birthday party, I was starting to think my suspicions were wrong. After Will's subdued reaction and brooding over my kiss with Warren I thought he might still have feelings for me, but then he wouldn't be looking at every beautiful woman, would he? Or was that just a thing that guys did whether they were in love or not? I do not know.

Loud music was coming out of the garage. I was pleasantly surprised when I recognised _Tangled up in Blue_ from Dylan's Blood on the Tracks album. Will and I went in through the side door, after knocking and calling his name and receiving no answer. The garage was huge. It was more of a barn, really, with the wooden beams supporting the roof and the high ceiling. Yet, garage was an apt name, because there were five cars inside in various states. Only one of them was in good shape, three were wrecks and one was not a wreck, but rather in the early stages of construction.

'Warren?' Will called again, because we didn't see him anywhere. Suddenly, Warren rolled out from under the closest wreck. In his right hand he held a wrench and his hands were streaked with black. Probably motor oil or something similar. He greeted Will and nodded at me as he turned down the volume of the music. His hair was up and he was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a black wife beater. It was just as well that he didn't pay attention to me, because my heart had apparently decided it was in league with my lungs. The sneaky bastards were nearly killing me with their combined effort. My heart was racing and my breathing was ragged. It's good that I don't believe in any romantic connotations connected to the heart. This was a simple psychical reaction to an attractive man, nothing more.

'I'll open the garage doors, so you can drive it in,' Warren said and Will left through the side door. Then it was just us. Warren busied himself sliding the locks on the left door aside, but when he was done he straightened up and looked at me.

'How's your eye?'

'It's fine.'

'It doesn't _look_ fine to me,' he said and he kindly touched my chin and turned my head to get a better look at it. His fingertips were rough and the warmth emitting from them made me blush. Warren also realised the touch was taking on an intimate nature that went far beyond the sort of routine check up he was trying to enact and dropped his hand, embarrassed.

'Is there something I can do for you? Do you need something, a favour? Because I feel really bad about yesterday,' I said. Warren was in the process of opening the left door and shook his head while continuing to push, before pausing. The pause was very brief, but it was there, nonetheless. A faint hesitation that told me he had thought of something.

'Anything really, to make it up to you. There is something I can do, isn't there?' I urged. He unbolted the other door and leaned against it as he considered me and my question. His face was betraying very little as usual, but I could sense there was a debate raging in his mind.

'Ok. I need someone to cover my shift at the restaurant next Wednesday and I've had trouble finding someone,' he said and he looked me over, 'You did good helping this week, so I think you'll manage.'

I wanted to say something sarcastic about his vote of confidence in my waitressing abilities or flirt about him needing me, but sometimes you have to know when to shut up. So, for once, I shut up.

'You would get paid, but I insist you think of something I can do for you too,' he said sternly and indicated my eye. Ah, a favour for an eye. But I couldn't think of anything for the moment. Will honked and Warren and I pushed open the right garage door, so he could drive in. There was just enough space in the garage for another car and Will's manoeuvring was impressive, so I guess I have to stop giving him a hard time about his horrible driving skills. It's just difficult to forget about him hitting every single traffic cone during his early driving lessons. As he got out he looked suspiciously from me to Warren and to me again.

'You've got something on your chin,' Will snapped. Warren's eyes flicked to my chin and then to his own dirty hands. Silently, he cursed and fished a clean handkerchief out of the pocket of his jeans. He made a move as if he was going to rub the smudge off himself, but under Will's watchful eyes thought better of it and just handed me the handkerchief. I gave my entire chin a good scrubbing and handed back the handkerchief, because it would be pathetic to try and keep it simply because it smelled so much of Warren.

'Give you both a ride home?' Warren offered and Will accepted sullenly. The walk to the driveway where Warren's truck stood was cringe worthy. Without any prompting I sat in the backseat, while Will sat in the front with Warren. It would not have done to sit in front with Warren and make Will feel even more excluded. Upon arriving home Will got out without saying another word to either me or Warren, which elicited a simultaneous sigh from us. Warren looked at me via the rear view mirror and he did that wrinkly thing with his nose again. It was so cute and...I really cannot be falling in love with Warren Peace. In the confusion of the moment, I managed to abort a hair tuck right in time.

'Why do you always do that?' Warren asked. He turned around and leaning over he mimicked me by reaching for an escaped strand of my hair and then averting the movement of his hand at the last moment.

'I don't always do that,' I protested. This was supposed to be a well-kept secret with a treasurer of one: me. Even Will was not aware of this particular neurosis of mine.

'You did it at the homecoming dance too,' he said and he smiled fondly at the memory. And didn't that just seem like a lifetime ago? Warren had looked so good in a tuxedo, yet I had been using Warren to make Will jealous. Now Will was probably in his room glowering about me and Warren and all I wanted to do was kiss Warren. Considering how he looked in the tight wife beater and the old jeans, it was taking me every ounce of self-discipline to not jump him right then and there. The beat of my heart was so loud it was a mystery to me why he couldn't hear it. During the rising crescendo of my inner drumming I closed the gap between us and kissed Warren.

'See? No laughing, or crying or anything,' I bumbled as I quickly broke off the kiss and fell backwards out of the car. Yes, this had definitely been an explanatory kiss and not an I-want-to-kiss-you kiss. That is why I was fleeing inside and felt like giggling. That is why my heart was still playing that drumming song. Who am I kidding? I want Warren.


	8. Between two lungs

**Chapter Eight: Between two lungs**

The rest of the week and into next week Will continued to behave erratically. He would open his mouth, but shut it again. He seemed constantly on the verge of saying something, but then somehow always said something else. His attitude ranged from morose to hostile and it was seriously starting to get on my nerves. Meanwhile, I was kind of avoiding Warren. It was a little too soon to be falling in love with someone else, I thought. Also, despite him being much nicer to me than he had ever been to anyone and kissing me I didn't believe Warren was actually interested in me. Or maybe, if he was, only in a kissing sort of way and not in a relationship kind of way. But as much as Will's vague and indecisive behaviour was irritating me, my own indecision was annoying me even more.

It would be seriously uncool to do the same song and dance with Warren as I had with Will. It wasn't fair to me, and it would surely tick Warren off, since he was far less patient than Will. So, I was just going to come right out and ask Warren whether he had feelings for me. That had been the plan on Monday, and Tuesday, and now Wednesday. Today I had to cover for him at the restaurant too. No matter what, I would have to face him and this time I wouldn't waver. I would carry out my resolution and then I would know. Which, whatever Warren's answer might be, would definitely be better than this floundering in the empty space of not knowing.

Yet, I wanted to resolve things with Will, before I committed to anything with Warren. Warren had told me to be at the restaurant at five o'clock, so I figured I had plenty of time after school to have a much needed talk with Will and to go home and eat an early dinner before going to the restaurant. The cook or owner or someone was apparently a stickler for punctuality, because Warren had urged me to please be on time. Well, he had put his faith in me and the cook had put his faith in Warren's recommendation of me, thus, I would have to earn that trust.

Unfortunately, after school Will vanished into the day. Without his car, the vanishing was quite quiet too. Something was clearly the matter with him, possibly related to the chemistry he perceived between Warren and me? I had not had the distinctly unpleasant honour of ever seeing Will so frustrated. Even when we were dating, and neither of us was on his best behaviour, he wasn't as insufferable as he had been this past week. All he did was scoff and shrug and snort at everything I said. Not the most patient person myself either, I had to hold myself back from screaming, 'Use your words!'

If Will thought he could escape me he had another thing coming. I resolved to go by after dinner. Scarfing down my food, which earned me some reproving looks from my father of all people – he who is also known as the human waste disposal – I was done eating in ten minutes. Warren would be proud of me. As I knocked on the Stronghold's front door, I steeled myself for an awkward conversation. Josie let me in and guided me towards the kitchen. She had a pained look on her face, as if she knew the atmosphere was strained between Will and me and more was to come. Will's father also looked supremely uncomfortable. Truly, I got that having the ex-girlfriend of your son over was not a picnic, but by the look on their faces you would think I was the crazy stalker ex-girlfriend or the insane chainsaw-wielding ex-girlfriend or something. Steve and Josie were glancing alternately to each other and to the floor.

'Is he upstairs? Shall I...?'

My question only prompted more covert looks and awkward coughs. There was some non-verbal communication happening right under my nose and aside from the fact that they were embarrassed by my mere presence I was completely in the dark about it. A stern 'use your words' might have been in order here also, but their behaviour was making me uncomfortable to the point where I became a little shy. What was going on here?

When I heard two people descend the stairs and Sophia followed Will into the kitchen I understood. It was a relief to not be the crazy ex-girlfriend, but simply the ex-girlfriend who unwittingly stumbled across the new girlfriend. This put Will's behaviour into an entirely different light. Most likely he had been struggling with how to tell me about Sophia. He must have felt, like me, a tad ashamed at moving on so quickly.

'Can I talk to you outside for a moment, Will?' I asked, and I was surprised when that came out a bit sharp. Even more surprising was the tinge of jealousy I seemed to feel when Will excused himself to Sophia. It was certainly not a benign feeling. Sophia smiled at me, but her smile was disingenuous at best. It was a shame because she was so beautiful and Will obviously liked her a lot, but even after this short meeting I could say I didn't care for her. Leaving through the front door again, I was relieved to be out of that house. At the danger of sounding like a hippie; there was some strong negative energy in there and it couldn't all come from the embarrassment Will's parents had been exuding.

'She's not my girlfriend,' Will said. However, his eyes darted at the door and the nearby windows to see if Sophia might have overheard. This could mean two things; either she was his girlfriend and he was lying or she wasn't his girlfriend, but he was hoping she might become his girlfriend. Since Will is a terrible liar, I could safely go with option number two. Realising this, I did neither feel sad nor upset. How could I be jealous when I did not want to go back to what Will and I had?

'But you want her to be?'

For the first time in a week he really looked at me and smiled. He sat down on the lawn and patted the space next to him. Obligingly, I sat down. And just when I thought I had things figured out, Will turned the universe upside down.

'I'd rather it be you.'

For crying out loud. This was not even... We had not been a great couple, not even a mediocre couple. Will + Layla + relationship = horrible. Just plain horrible. We had been mean, resentful and petty. The breakup had been mutual and the best decision we could have made. Now we were on the right track to becoming friends again and, though it was nice to not be the one screwing it up, why did he have to screw it up?

'Will, I don't think that's such a good idea. We were awful as a couple,' I said and began to give a summation of the hurtful things we had both said and done. Will relaxed and flopped back on the lawn, his hands behind his head.

'Since I saw you with Warren, I just... I don't know. I was jealous, I guess,' he admitted as gazed at me through his eye lashes. The sun was right behind me and I was sure that all he could see of me was a silhouette. The windows of the house were dark, but I thought I saw something moving. Sophia the spy?

'We're much better as friends,' I said and I stretched out on the lawn too. Will flipped to his side and twirled a blade of grass between his fingers. As if delivering some secret information he leaned closer and joked.

'Ah, you're only saying that because you've got a thing for Warren.'

'I do not have a thing for Warren!' I protested and bumped his shoulder. We both laughed. This was the moment we both realised we were back to normal. Inside was a potential girlfriend for Will and despite what I said Will and I both knew I did have a thing for Warren, but we were alright with that. Everything was as it was supposed to be: we were friends and nothing more.

We got up and went into the house. Will's parents and Sophia were still standing in the kitchen. Seeing that Will and I were joking with each other, Josie handed me a cup of lemonade from the kitchen counter and we chatted – sans awkwardness – before I had to leave to go to the restaurant. I said goodbye to Steve and Josie, who had retired to the couch in the living room and to Will and Sophia. I was perfectly civil, though the bad vibrations I was getting from Sophia were severe. Perhaps I should talk to her some time about how I was by no means her rival and was not battling with her for Will's affection.

As I left the Stronghold household I thought of Warren and my heart immediately picked up its pace. My breathing became laboured to the point where I had to stop every few steps to catch my breath. This was a bit extreme. It had not felt so serious before. My lungs were aching; sucking in oxygen, but it was never fast enough. Never enough. My heart was giving me the most trouble though. It hurt, physically. This is what I imagined a heart attack must feel like. Barely reaching my own trusty lawn I decided to lie down for a moment.


	9. Cosmic love

**Chapter Nine: Cosmic love**

'I've thought of a favour. Go out on a date with me.'

This was the first thing I said when I walked into the restaurant and came across Warren. He was in the middle of serving a couple, so I wasn't alarmed when he didn't answer me at once. However, when he then sailed over to the kitchen and started chatting to the cook as if I wasn't even there I was confused.

'Warren? Did you hear me? I asked you out,' I repeated hesitantly. If he had tried he could not have looked more bored.

'I heard you. But since you're not doing me a favour I'm not doing you a favour either,' he said and turned away from me again. I was standing half in and half out of the kitchen, because I wasn't sure whether I was wanted there. There was no spare apron laid out and though an overnight bag was in the corner, Warren didn't look as if he was going anywhere.

'You don't need me to cover for you today?' I asked. Warren faced me and looked at me. It was unlike any look I had ever been on the receiving end of. Will had been unfriendly and hostile the past week, but his hostility would barely register on the scale Warren was applying now. On the one hand, he looked as if I was a particularly gross insect that he wanted to squash and on the other hand, it felt like he looked right through me.

'We needed you about an hour and a half ago,' he said. That was impossible. I wanted to say that was impossible, but I noticed the clock and it _was_ half past six. How could that have happened? When I left Will it was a quarter to five and I only needed five minutes to make it over to the Paper Lantern. Yes, I had rested for a few minutes, but surely I could not have been lying on the lawn for more than 90 minutes? Someone would have seen me and, despite my general weirdness, they would have woken me. Plus, though I had been feeling tired and strange, I had not been that worn out.

The situation was freaking me out and I stumbled backwards into the restaurant. Looking for an empty seat – the restaurant was crowded again and it was hard to find one – and locating one eventually, I sat down. Warren must have seen the look of complete and utter confusion on my face, because he came over and kneeled by my seat.

'What's wrong?'

'I don't understand how this could have happened. One minute it was a quarter to five and then I was here,' I explained quietly. His face was very close, but I was not thinking of kissing him for once. He seemed to realise I was not making up some lame excuse and as a result he was worried.

'You told me it was important for me to be on time. I meant to be here at five, I swear. I don't know what happened,' I said again. Suddenly his cool hand was on my forehead and I closed my eyes.

'Whatever it is, it's not a fever. Come sit in the kitchen,' he said and took my hand in his and led me there. It wasn't until he had extricated a chair from somewhere and seated me in the corner, a reasonable distance away from the cook, who was protesting, against my intrusion I should think, and provided me with a glass of water, that he tended to the orders that had stacked up since I came in. The feel of the glass in my hand was reassuring for some reason. So was the bustle of the cook and Warren who came in whenever he had the time. Every time he did he flashed me a smile that made me feel warm inside.

I kept going over what could have happened and perhaps the explanation I was most comfortable with was that I had indeed slept on the lawn for an hour and a half. The fact that this was the explanation that made the most sense was disturbing. Our lawn is cosy, but not _that_ cosy. Yet, what other explanation could there be? Blackouts were not my thing, nor, to my knowledge, did I have more than one personality. In the end I tried to stop turning the matter over and over in my mind, because it was clear I was getting nowhere.

The next few hours past quickly, but at least I knew where I was and what I had been doing. A couple of times I attempted to get up and help Warren, but he would just gently sit me down again. The cook, who was definitely not a fan of me – and who could blame him? – left around nine and Warren cleaned up alone. After washing up he approached me.

'Tell me everything you remember.'

So I did. He couldn't make any sense of it either, but he believed I was telling the truth. That felt good. For a while we sat in silence, only the dripping of a leaky faucet could be heard.

'Will is falling for Sophia?' Warren asked to lighten the mood and I smiled appreciatively.

'Yes. She's great. She's funny and beautiful and intelligent,' I said. She really was. Such a wonderful girl. I could not have picked a better girlfriend for Will if I had tried.

'Looks like Will is not the only one who's in love with her,' Warren teased, but I didn't smile. Why did he have to joke about Sophia? I honestly liked her.

'Well, I do like her. Sophia is fantastic,' I repeated, a little irritated by his response. Warren leaned back and scrutinised me. A troubled frown was appearing on his face.

'Don't you think you're overstating it a bit? It's just me. You don't have to pretend to like her. Hell, hate her. What do I care?'

The chair fell back as I shoved it away and it loudly clattered onto the tiles. Startled, Warren backed away. Warren was mystified by my behaviour and I was starting to get angry. The amount of anger I was generating was staggering. I wagged my finger at him, something I have always considered rude and extremely annoying and I have no idea why I did it.

'I care. And I think she is amazing. She is universally liked. Everyone I know likes her. I don't know how anyone could hate her,' I yelled. Warren's eyes were almost entirely black and they were following my every move with curiosity. He seemed to be analysing me or seizing me up. Either way he was not engaged in the argument we were having. His detachment only served to fuel my anger.

'Why did I have to cover for you anyway? Where were you going?' I screamed. It wasn't a question, it wasn't even civil. I nearly barked it at him. My anger was electrifying. All on behalf of my dear friend Sophia. My best friend Sophia. I would kill for her, I would die for her. She was the best. Every word I uttered and everything I was thinking added to my confusion. Suddenly, Warren was no longer unaffected by my rage. He glanced at the overnight bag, briefly shut his eyes, and then shot forward to grab my arm.

It was not a friendly touch. He was literally trembling with anger and it was no doubt a feat of restraint that his fingers did not dig into my arm and bruise me for weeks to come. We were facing each other, lips pressed so tightly together they were turning white. His barely concealed fury was scaring me, but then again my entire demeanour was scaring me. Without a word of warning, he dragged me over to the back entrance and pushed me out.

'And about that date? I'm not interested in Will's rejects,' he stated, before calmly closing the door with an echoing clang. Exhausted, I leaned against the wall, panting and shivering. What just happened? I had a fight with Warren about Sophia. I defended Sophia. I don't even like Sophia. What the f?


	10. My boy builds coffins

**Chapter Ten: My boy builds coffins**

As if it wasn't enough that I had apparently slept on the lawn for one and a half hour like some sort of hobo, now I had picked a fight with Warren over Sophia of all people, and lost. I pounded on the door of the back entrance a couple of times, but understandably Warren didn't open it. Then I went home and tried to sleep it off. Unfortunately, my mind was like a fountain, but instead of water one thought kept going through my mind. Why did I behave so strangely?

I lay awake all night agonising over what Warren must think of me by now. First the crying, then the laughing, then I broke my promise to cover for him and then the fighting. He must think I'm insane. The bags under my eyes were a testament to a sleepless night, but hey, at least my rainbow eye had finally cleared up.

At school I had to hold my tongue while Will went on and on about how awesome Sophia is. It wasn't a jealous feeling I was repressing, just a feeling of general annoyance. I know when you're in love you think the person you're in love with is super and you want to talk about them all day long, but really why did I have to be subjected to this? Love struck Will was such a bore; I wondered whether in the early stages of our relationship he had bored the crap out of Ethan and Zach about me too.

Will's behaviour started to make a lot more sense when I went over to his house after school. After spending a lot of time theorising I had decided that up until I left Will's house on yesterday I felt fine, so something must have happened right before that. Since I didn't think either Will or his parents had any vested interest in making me look like an idiot and a curious side effect of my mental illness was that I had suddenly inexplicably loved Sophia I figured she must have something to do with it. In the kitchen at Will's house the three of them were talking up a storm. About how wonderful Sophia was. It was getting really old really fast.

Will's parents were dressed in their superhero suits, but it didn't occur to me until listening for a tedious five minutes to their conversation that they were dressed for business for a reason. Though they had turned the sound off the alarm light was still flashing. They had actually been sitting there praising Sophia while there was a super villain smashing up buildings or whatever it is super villains do. Mostly they are interested in world domination, but that usually involves destroying skyscrapers and the like.

'Don't you think you should go rescue people and defeat bad guys?' I said. It came out hesitantly, because there was simply no sense of urgency in the air. Josie, dressed as Jetstream, got up from her chair.

'There's no rush, dear. How about I get you a drink while Will tells you how excellent Sophia is?' she said and it just suddenly clicked. I drank something yesterday out of a cup that had been sitting on the counter. Sophia must have slipped something in it. Luckily, I was in a bit of a hurry, so I only sipped, but Will and his parents must have finished their cups. Who knows how much of the stuff she had given them before and after I left. First I had thought liking her had been a side effect of the draught or pill or powder she put in my drink, but what if it was the intended effect. What if she wanted everyone to like her? Why would she want that?

In record time I impressed on the Commander and Jetstream the importance of their leaving and taking care of the emergency. Will seemed unfazed by his parents' departure and I briefly considered trying to explain the situation to him. However, I had witnessed my own violent reaction yesterday when Warren did nothing except suggest that I didn't like Sophia, so I thought trying to convince Will that his new girlfriend was a psychopath would probably not go over well. Instead I made an excuse and headed for the only other person I could think of who could help me: Warren.

In front of the Paper Lantern I bumped into Warren's mother. She looked a bit confused. As she straightened her jacket she suddenly recognised me and told me Warren wasn't there. Smoothing away a few wrinkles in the fabric she explained that she had just wasted a considerable amount of time arguing with the cook about where Warren was, which had gotten her nowhere. Nonetheless, she reckoned they had gotten into a fight and the cook had sent him away.

'My advice is to tread carefully if you want to speak to Warren. It doesn't surprise me that he got into trouble here. Your boy has been in a foul mood since his visit to his father fell through,' she groused. _My boy? _Too much was happening at once, so I focused on one thing, finding Warren. The only other place I knew to look was his home. I asked Warren's mother whether she would wait so I could ride with her, because it was too far to walk and it was an emergency. The last part remained unsaid, because how on earth was I going to explain this to her? For some reason I kept forgetting it was an emergency. Maybe the drink's influence was still wearing off. I quickly ran inside to see if perhaps the cook would tell me where Warren had gone, when I spotted Sophia sitting in the back.

'Hi Layla, can I get you a drink?' she asked and smiled at me sweetly. The only thing that kept me from swinging at her was the fact that my tiny tiny fists wouldn't even put a dent in that smile. Damn my tiny ineffectual fists! Hair pulling was an option or simply kicking her, but there were a few other customers and I didn't want to make a scene. This perfectly illustrates how I could not get it through my thick skull that there was an actual emergency. Who cares about making a scene when there's an emergency? I've never seen Sylvester Stallone, Jean Claude van Damme, Arnold Schwarzenegger or Steven Seagal worry about that sort of stuff when they're saving the world. Man, I watch too many films with Will.

'I'm not accepting anything from you, psychopath,' I hissed and she looked a bit taken aback. In all likelihood she had not expected the drink's influence to wear off so soon. But before I could say anything else she sprayed something on me.

'Wrong –path, sweetie. I'm a liquipath and you're in for a massive hangover. When you're hugging the toilet bowl tomorrow you can remember that the time to stop me has come and gone,' Sophia said and then she just sat back and laughed at me. My head was feeling very heavy and my thoughts were woozy, but I managed to turn my back on her and put one foot in front of the other. That's how I made it to the car. The car was a blur, but I located the door handle and got in. Warren's mother was a bit impatient, so she said nothing. I said nothing either, because I was too busy not slumping over to the side. Sit up straight; that was my mantra the entire drive over to Warren's home. What I was going to do when I got there I didn't know. Whatever Sophia had sprayed on me, she had been right about its effect. I wasn't going to fall asleep or fall in love with her this time; the only falling I was going to do was fall over.

Holding on to and leaning against the car I succeeded in not falling out. Warren's mother seemed to notice something was off, but she merely told me to tell Warren she was not happy at being invited over for dinner only to discover he wasn't at the Paper Lantern at all. She stalked off into the house and I looked at the garage. There were either two or three or maybe two and a half garages in the garden as far as I could see and they were gently swaying from side to side. This was going to be a long long walk.

Estimated times I fell down before I reached the garage: twenty. Warren was shimmering, but at least I could make him out. I stood there watching him for a few seconds, before the floor started to move and I stumbled towards him.

'Layla, what are you doing here?'

'Will didn't tell me you invented... No, made up... No, build cars,' I slurred. The wooden beams were falling on my head and then they were far away again. Strange. It felt like I was moving as through water, my every movement was very slow and cost more effort. Also, I could see a ripple effect. It was causing little waves on the cars that were very pretty to look at. My hand tried to touch the waved on the nearest one, but to my frustration I couldn't feel them. It was being built. Warren was building it. It wanted to be a car when it grew up.

'That's a nice coffin,' I mumbled and I laughed. I don't know why I laughed. My uncle had died in a car just like that one. Well, it had been whole-er. Ha, whole-er, I laughed again. And after the crashed it had been hole-er. Whole-er and hole-er. Whole, hole, whole, hole. Something with a hole is not whole. A whole hole.

'Are you drunk?' Warren asked. His face was suddenly very close again and the disgust on it was palpable. His hands steadied me and kept a firm grip on my arms. Nevertheless, my legs were a bit wobbly.

'I'm taking you home,' he said and he draped his right arm around me. As I tried to remember what it was I needed to tell him, we made it over to the door. I kept tripping and Warren had clearly had enough of me, so he picked me up and carried me to his car. I'm not a baby, so I don't like to be carried around, but Warren's arms felt safe. His face was swimming before mine and I could not remember what the emergency had been about. All that was left in my brain was the fact that there was an unspecified emergency and Warren.

'Sophia,' I whispered. The emergency has something to do with Sophia. She did this to me. My vision was coming and going and I could just see Warren's infamous eye roll of intense exasperation. Not so gently he put me down and reached around me to open the door. I leaned against him.

'I'm sick of hearing about Sophia,' he growled and I could feel it vibrate through his chest. As he moved away from me I had to grab hold of his shoulders to keep from falling over. He paused and we looked at each other.

'That's why I love you.'


	11. Hurricane drunk

**Chapter Eleven: Hurricane drunk**

'You love me? Because I'm sick of hearing about Sophia?'

Warren was still holding me and I used him to keep steady. It was important not to think about him or to think about what I had said and what it might mean. If I did think about that I would kiss him and I would forget about all other things entirely. Like the emergency and Sophia.

'Yes, but I do have to tell you something about her,' I warbled. 'Figures,' Warren mumbled under his breath and he opened the car door and helped me inside. Though he closed the door gently, the bang still hurt my ears and started a splitting headache. He got in on the other side and started the car. The engine sounded like a living thing and I could easily have wasted precious time thinking of what beast it might be that was propelling the car forward, but I forced my mind back to the emergency.

'I don't like Sophia,' I said and Warren glanced at me before focusing on the road again.

'That makes two of us,' he answered and peered in the rear view and side mirror before turning a corner. His hand brushed the hair out of my face. There were leaves and dirt in there, from all the times I had fallen when making my way over to the garage. My jeans and shirt were streaked with dirt too.

'She's a liquipath. She made me like her with lemonade, but then it wore off,' I tried to explain. I think I was doing a piss poor job of it. Warren's fingers drummed on the steering wheel and he seemed to be considering my story.

'She drugged you. Why?'

Miserable, I sank back against the headrest and closed my eyes. With my eyes shut I felt better, because the world was not circling around me. When I saw nothing I could imagine the world was not moving. This was the weak part of my theory. Why did she want me to like her? It would be even harder to explain why she drugged Will and his parents since I knew Will had already liked her and his parents would probably have followed suit.

'I don't know,' I whispered and the act of speaking was exhausting. Ever so slowly I was slumping to the side. I knew it was happening, but even in slow-motion I was powerless to stop it.

'When I suggested you might not like Sophia, you did go crazy,' Warren said and he regarded me wearily. Perhaps it was a relief that I was slightly less insane than he had thought. Or my story now was just further proof of my craziness.

'It was... I never would have been late if it hadn't been for her. That was a solid promise and I would have covered for you. After all you've done...'

My tongue was swollen or my mouth was shrinking, either way, talking was a task. Warren's hand stopped me from hitting my head against the window and tugged me back into a sitting position.

'I was going to visit my father that day. That's why I needed someone to cover for me. My mother offered to take me, but she didn't want to go herself. I worked extra shifts at the restaurant to pay for the trip; I had booked a flight and a hotel room. He's in a special facility for villains with superpowers; they aren't allowed visitors very often.'

My mind was slipping. I was fighting to stay awake. Warren looked at me as if he thought it was his fault. That he should not have gotten angry when I was yelling at him about Sophia or that he should have opened the doors afterwards, so we might have figured out about Sophia sooner. But it was definitely not his fault and we hadn't solved anything. We only knew she was doing something, but we had no clue what her actual goal was.

His fingers tapped my cheek and that was the last thing I remembered.

(***)

'Layla? Layla?'

As I opened my eyes I felt a pain behind my eye. It was as if someone was hammering on a nerve ending. The pain was dull but so severe and distracting that I had difficulty focusing on the voice. Will's voice.

'Are you alright?'

Everyone had been asking me that question after the breakup and then with the black eye and man, was I ever tired of answering it. However, since it was Will who was asking it and since he had saved me, from myself, more time than I could count I was making an effort to answer nonetheless.

'I'm fine. My throat is as dry as your humour, but other than that...'

'Hey, don't joke about my humour. I'm funny,' Will protested and as I turned my head I could just see him. Turning my head proved to only spurn on the head ache, so I quickly settles my head back on the pillow and enjoyed telling Will that he was funny – funny looking. Something came back to me at once. It sometimes occurred to me that my uncle was dead. This was something I knew, of course, but it wasn't on my mind all the time, so it could still take my breath away when it suddenly popped into my head. The memory that came back to me now of Sophia and what she had done was less painful, but perhaps more urgent, because she had said that tomorrow it would be too late to stop her. And by the looks of it tomorrow had become today.

'Sophia?' I croaked and that hurt like hell. Will handed me a cup of water for my nightstand and I drank thirstily. This whole hangover happening was thoroughly unpleasant. I hoped real hangovers didn't feel like this, otherwise, no matter how good white wine tastes, I vowed never to drink again. Will took the cup of water away, but held on to my hand.

'We got her,' Will simply said and it wasn't until I pinched him several times that he elaborated on that statement. He rubbed his hand, but still held mine.

'Warren brought you home and came to talk to me. He explained what you had said about Sophia, which I naturally didn't believe...' Will said and I hit his hand. Now he finally jerked it away.

'Because I was under the influence! Then we went to the main water supply, because Warren figured that's where he would go if he was a psychopathic liquipath – let's hope he never goes bad, because he would make an excellent villain – and she was there. And this is where it gets strange,' Will explained. _This?_ I wanted to say. It was strange from beginning to end.

'She cried,' Will stated out of the blue. If I hadn't known any better I would have sworn he pitied her and when I forced myself to look at him I saw that he did. He pitied Sophia.

'She tested the solution on me and my parents because we are the most powerful heroes, which is kind of flattering if you think about it. There were side effects, but she thought it worked well enough, so she was going to poison the whole water supply for the town with it. She told us she just wanted her parents to see that she had friends.'

It was good that I hadn't turned my gaze to the ceiling again and was still looking at him, because after I threw him a withering gaze he sheepishly added, 'Well, that and world domination.'

World domination. What is it about world domination that makes all the villains want it or makes people become villains because they want it? I don't see the appeal. I wouldn't even want town domination or house domination, let alone world domination. Tastes differ, I guess.

'Warren was awesome. Even after she told us the truth, I thought she was perfect and sweet and saintly, but he hauled her over to the proper authorities. Afterwards we checked on you again. I still couldn't stop talking about Sophia and it was truly amazing how he managed not to deck me. He said something weird though,' Will added. Nursing his hand, he stared at me, as if he was waiting for me to ask what Warren had said. I, however, was not going to do that, because thinking of speaking caused my mouth to hurt. Instead, I stared at him pointedly until he gave in.

'He said you actually make more sense when you're drugged.'


	12. Blinding

**Chapter Twelve: Blinding **

Will sat there all day, occasionally handing me a cup of water. He was very quiet, because he was doing some research for the next school project, while listening to his iPod. How weird is that? His life is alternatively about defeating super villains and finishing lame homework assignments; the difference is humungous. Having Will with me was nice. He knows me and I know him and now that we'd largely gotten over that post-break up awkwardness he was one of the three people in my life I felt completely comfortable with, aside from my parents. Still, I discovered I kind of wished Warren was with me.

He had been nice to me when I didn't deserve it, he had helped me when I badly needed help and he had understood me when I didn't make any sense. There was precious little about him that I knew, because he hardly ever confided in anyone, yet somehow it felt as if I knew him almost better than I knew Will. Lying there I had a lot of time to think, since there was nothing else to do. My throat was still too sore to speak and my head ache prevented me from reading. It now occurred to me that I had been kidding myself about Warren.

I was attracted to him. I wanted him. I wanted to kiss him. That was what the shortness of breath had been about. However, I wanted that other stuff too. I wanted the handholding and the cuddling on the couch and the date nights. Even though it was too soon to be falling in love with someone else, the truth was that I was in love. No longer falling, but already firmly in love. Perhaps I even loved him, like I thought I had loved Will, but it was definitely too soon to tell that. This of course meant that I would have to ask him again. Not ask him out on a date this time, but actually tell him about my feelings and then ask how he felt about me. Could there be anything scarier than that in the world?

At the end of the day my throat felt a lot better and my head ache was largely gone. When I stretched my neck and the room didn't start spinning, I looked at Will. At first glance he seemed to be reading, but it soon became obvious that he wasn't. The book he was holding had been opened on the same two pages, which contained more pictures and diagrams than text, for far too long. In addition, his eyes were not moving. He was not reading; his thoughts were miles away. Perhaps he was thinking about Sophia. After all, he had genuinely liked her before the whole drugging debacle and this was the second time a girl he liked turned out to be evil. Well, evil; Sophia's plan was equal parts sad and evil.

'I feel kind of bad for Sophia. After all, she only wanted people to like her,' I said and Will looked up, startled out of his reverie. He pulled out his earplugs and I repeated what I'd said. My voice sounded fine. A bit hoarse, but otherwise fine. It was as if Will had determined not to go easy on Sophia, precisely because he still had lingering feelings for her.

'To be fair, she wanted people to like her, so they wouldn't protest when she made a grab for world domination.'

That was harsh, but true. He motioned towards the cup, but I shook my head. An idea was forming in my mind, but as with all ideas I had no idea whether it was a good or bad idea, so I decided to run it by Will.

'Where did they take her?'

Will seemed to be surprised by the question, but he recovered swiftly.

'Some super secret prison for criminals with powers. My dad might know,' Will answered and then added, 'You want to go visit her?' I laughed and shook my head again. It was nice to be able to shake it without immediately wanting to vomit.

'It's for Warren. He wanted to visit his father and I screwed it up. Do you think your father could arrange for him to get another appointment?' I asked.

'Since he saves the world and its citizens on a daily basis, I think he might be capable of securing that, yeah. You really like Warren, don't you?'

Without looking at him I nodded, but I admitted I didn't think I had a shot with him. Suddenly I was embarrassed anew. After all, we did date and Warren was his best friend and somehow I was still getting used to him being just my friend again. Sometimes we were just fine and could talk about it casually and sometimes I had to work really hard at suppressing a feeling of awkwardness. Will took my hand and I stared into his eyes.

'I know he likes you too. That's more than can be said about 99 percent of the people Warren knows,' Will joked and then after a brief, considering pause, 'Ah, who am I kidding? How could someone not fall in love with you?'

'You did a pretty good job all those years,' I said and we both laughed. Softly, he patted my hand. Music was still faintly audible from the earplugs hanging around his neck. It was a Bieber song. I didn't say anything, but that was just pathetic. Will caught my eye roll and smiled a bit embarrassed. He really has the worst taste in music. A soft knock on the door interrupted us. Warren hesitatingly opened the door and came in. Will excused himself and winked at me as he packed his books and left.

Suddenly I was worried about things I wasn't worried about with Will. Such as, how did my hair look? Was my dorky pyjama visible? How does my breath smell? Warren sat down where Will had been sitting. Curious, he looked around my room, which was a mess. Clothes were piled up in the corner, papers and books were strewn everywhere, but he didn't even blink. Well, he did, but not in revulsion or shock, just because he had to.

'Will's pretty hopeless with women, huh? I mean, come on, that's two out of three of his girlfriends who turned out to be villains,' Warren joked to break the tension and I chuckled. We both relaxed a bit after that. This was probably not the right time to bring up that I was in love with him, since I didn't look my best.

'At least Will knows you'll never go bad,' Warren said and I sat up straight against my pillow.

'How do you know? Maybe I've secretly been working on a plan for world domination,' I protested and narrowed my eyes in an effort to look mysterious and suspicious. The left corner of his mouth curled up into an amused smile.

'Have you?' he asked.

'No.'

'Good.'

'Yeah.'

'That would be hard work. _World domination_,' he said and he made an all encompassing gesture as if it was too big to contemplate, 'That's not something you achieve in just one day.'

'That's what I thought. After a while it would also get a bit boring, I think. You know, you've been dominating all day and you think, there had to be more to life than this,' I agreed. Dominating might not have been the right word to use, because a picture of someone clad entirely in leather brandishing a whip came into my mind and I hoped Warren wasn't thinking I was alluding to that. Because I wasn't, it was just my dirty mind. Fortunately, the association seemed not to occur to him, since he smiled at me in the sweetest way possible. I think he was hardly aware of how cute he looked right then, otherwise he would have ceased smiling immediately.

Damn whether it was the right moment or not, I couldn't hold it in any longer. I swallowed nervously and reached out for his hand. Realising my intention, Warren met me halfway. My hand looked so tiny engulfed by his big hand. Almost absentmindedly, he caressed my fingers. In the end it was so obvious. I was truly, madly, deeply in love with Warren and over the past few weeks many signs had pointed towards him liking me too. My voice startled me as I spoke, but he merely squeezed my hand softly and looked into my eyes.

'You're the one I want. And I think that maybe I might be the one that you want too?'


	13. You've got the love

**Chapter Thirteen: You've got the love**

'My love for you was never in doubt,' Warren gruffly answered and my heart skipped a beat. For someone who just admitted that he was in love with someone who had already professed her love to him, Warren looked supremely unhappy. The guy is not good with expressing emotions. He stared at the floor, but kept his hand around mine.

'Oh really, wasn't it? You never said anything!' I protested. Now he looked up and he seemed positively angry again. Anyone but me would have thought he was angry, but I knew he was embarrassed.

'I gave some pretty strong hints,' he mumbled. I squeezed his hand and tried to refrain from laughing. It was hard, but I succeeded. Who would have thought Warren would be as obtuse about love as I had been with Will?

'Hints? Like what?'

'I told you I liked Eric Clapton,' he answered in all seriousness. We looked into each other's eyes and I swear he could see that I was having trouble not laughing. Luckily, that didn't insult him, probably because he saw how ridiculous that statement had been. Liking Eric Clapton meant that he loved me? In what universe? Slowly, I started to piece it together.

'That's a hint? Oh, you meant _Layla_. Dude, you're such a girl. Next time be a lot less subtle. Also, _Layla_ is a Derek and the Dominos song, not an Eric Clapton one,' I rattled. Warren leaned closer – please, let my breath not be too repulsive – and brushed back my hair.

'Layla? Shut up?' he said and I was about to say that he could not speak to me like that, when he smiled and kissed me. It was glorious. That's the only word I could come up with to describe the sensation. His warm lips made me almost melt. Our tongues met in the middle and swirled around each other as if I had never done anything else but kiss Warren. The tip of his tongue tickled my gums, but the best thing was his hands. They were around my waist and on my back and I could feel through my pyjama how strong and able they were. We parted, panting and I could read in his eyes that he would gladly slip those magic hands of his under my pyjama. It was hot.

On the other hand, I was gross. I needed to shower and brush my hair and teeth and put on deodorant and perhaps also shave my legs. Plus, I wouldn't put it past my parents, or Will, to suddenly bounce into my room. Warren backed away a little; he must have caught a whiff of my delightful aromas.

'You're not still... under the influence, are you?' he queried and I knew what he meant.

'No, I'm not. I am so in love with you,' I answered and he beamed at me. For a year he had been hiding the most adorable smile and I would never tell him that I had discovered it. Then he stood up.

'Tomorrow's Saturday, you want to hang out? I've got to go home now,' he asked, abashed.

'I'll come by around ten, if that's ok,' I said and he nodded. He leaned over and kissed me again. On the way to the door, he almost tripped over a book, but he righted himself just in time.

'Don't you go kissing other girls. You're mine now,' I urged. I was half joking and half serious. Warren looked at me as if I was going insane. That was no surprise; that look was no stranger to me. Yet, to think that the suggestion of kissing other girls seemed crazy to Warren warmed my heart.

(***)

The next day – shaven legs and all – I walked over to Warren. It was a beautiful day, especially as seen through my rose coloured glasses. I was way too early, but I couldn't wait to see him again. Don't think I'm not aware of how super sappy I must seem, but I wanted to kiss him and hold him and, you know, some other less PG-13 stuff. My dad would have killed Warren if he knew what Warren had been doing to me in my fantasies.

Out on the driveway I met Warren's mother again, but this time she was in a better mood and less in a hurry. She stopped to chat.

'Warren told me what happened two days ago and he tells me you're dating now. I think that's the most he's ever spoken to me in years,' she said. My face must have looked less than thrilled at that statement, because she immediately explained herself.

'That's more my fault than his, I assure you. He's a good guy. Just a little rusty when it comes to expressing his feelings,' she amended and then, whispering as if ashamed of herself, 'His father always used to say he loved me, but he had a crappy way of showing it. My speeches on this subject kind of rubbed off on Warren, I guess.'

With a flushed face, she directed me towards the garage and left quickly. She's nice, but I think she might indeed have affected Warren. As long as I've known him he's been so private. No one can know what he thinks or feels, unless it's a negative emotion. The last few weeks must have been his way of letting me know that he cared. He helped me, he listened to me, and he was nice. Those were really much better hints than an obscure reference to _Layla_.

As I entered the garage he looked surprise to see me, because I was a good thirty minutes early. He put down the wrench he had been holding and approached me. It was clear that he was glad to see me.

''To let true love remain unspoken is the quickest route to a heavy heart.' You said that,' I accused and poked a finger into his chest. Dating Warren is going to be difficult: I cannot walk around swooning every time I see him or touch him. It is going to be torture. He was dressed in a pair of old jeans and a black wife beater again and to me he had never looked hotter.

'A fortune cookie said that. I don't take advice from food,' he responded. I could see the muscles under his skin move as he wrapped his arms around me and brought his mouth to mine. Unfortunately, he stopped at the last moment and stared at me.

'You're not going to laugh or cry again, are you?' he asked, but his tone betrayed that he was screwing with me. My tiny fists pounded on his chest and he laughed. It was a good sound, even if he was mocking me.

'Warren? Shut up?'

This time I kissed him hard. He responded immediately by drawing me closer. Within a few seconds I was out of breath, but now I knew why. Warren took my breath away. The way he looked, the way he looked at me, the way he felt, the way he touched me. Oxygen was in short supply, especially when he kissed me like this. Feverish, like he was not going to let me go. I guess that pretty much means my lungs are smarter than me. Ah well, I thought, as I kissed him again, I can live with that.

The end.


End file.
